


Purple

by Catsarecutebutaliens



Series: Colors [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Don't copy to another site, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, alcohol mention, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsarecutebutaliens/pseuds/Catsarecutebutaliens
Summary: The mirror was covered by a blanket, and for a minute he couldn't remember why.





	Purple

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. For the record, I have no idea what this is or attempts to be, but I hope you like it or at least give it a chance. While I love reading hurt Peter fics, I haven't written anything for that myself. Well, that has officially changed. The rating and warnings are just to be safe, there are no graphic descriptions or anything like that. Just implications/references. I kinda want to make this a series so we'll see where this goes.
> 
> Writing in this style is fun if exhausting so feedback is always welcomed and I will cherish you for leaving comments.

The mirror was covered by a blanket, and for a minute he couldn't remember why.  
  
It was his favorite even, soft and purple and usually rested at the foot of the bed he still wasn't used to calling his.  
Not a single reflective surface was visible, now that he actively thought about it. Peter had wanted to asses the damage the sleep has done to his hair and found himself unable to.  
  
Maybe the lack of mirrors wasn't the weird thing, after all, though and it took him the whole way down the hallway to notice the big, aching gaps in his memory.  
His sleep-obscured thoughts and body were in the process of waking up, and a small part of him wanted to hurry up and shower, to be alone and safe. Peter did as it said, unknowing of the so carefully constructed wall in his mind slowly coming apart.  
  
It happened halfway through his shower routine, and for some reason, it wasn't a surprise.  
  
Water was drowning him, and his mouth fell open in a silent cry. For help? Out of pain? Sorrow? Anger?  
  
Peter didn't know, and he didn't want to know and _why was everything coming back_. Nails scraping over his skin he sunk against the wall, his tears mixing with the hot water. Slowly, everything he had tried to forget in his sleep wormed its way to the very center of his mind, infecting his body with panic.  
  
There was a bruise on his hip, several even, and Peter felt no pain when he drew blood from them.  
  
_Let me go, let me go, let me go._  
  
He started sobbing, hit his head back against the stone again and again until his vision no longer swam of tears alone.  
  
_Please, don't do this to me._  
  
_It's my fault._  
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
  
Peter left the shower numb, numb skin, numb mind, numb thoughts. He was tired, so tired, but he knew sleep would bring nothing but nightmares.  
For a mere moment, he entertained the thought of robbing the liquor cabinet and decided against it the very same second.  
  
Alcohol wouldn't help and neither would anything else.  
  
The wounds, self-inflicted or not, were already healing and would be gone soon. Too soon, maybe, or too late.  
  
The memory was still surging through his body at every step, but he's had worse. Much worse. _Right?_  
  
Peter wandered around the hallways and rooms in the dark. It should have scared him, made him feel unsafe; instead, it was a blanket, keeping him safe from the monsters lurking inside of him.  
  
There was a face.  
  
No name, no voice, just a face and the cruelest eyes he has ever seen. They'd been blue.  
  
No sleep awaits him at the end night and no relief at the end of the day.  
People ask questions, and after a while, the mask slips back on. The bruises disappear and lying is all he ever does. The guilt is burned by the fire in his veins and the poison in his throat.  
  
There are nights he gives up and days he doesn't live. Time heals no wounds and so he stitches himself back together.  
  
He puts on his suit and hurts. He goes outside and hurts. He sees people and gets touched and he hurts. No bruises. Never bruises.  
  
Peter Parker hurts and he doesn't stop hurting.  
  
Pain and haunting blue eyes are his companions.  
  
The mirror is still purple.  
  
It stays.


End file.
